


Dinner time

by HardiganCaptain



Category: Bronson (2008)
Genre: F/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 02:25:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HardiganCaptain/pseuds/HardiganCaptain





	Dinner time

The house is quiet when you get home, not even the soft hum of electricity breaking the silence. Curious you walk down the halls, peering into each room only to have the emptiness greet you at every turn. You can’t help but feel a bit disappointed, shrugging out of your overshirt to toss it onto the couch. After having him filling the house with his loud voice, the constant movement, the air almost feels stale.

Dinner, then. You haven’t eaten all day, well there was the slice of toast that you grabbed on the way out the door, but your stomach is causing chest pains you’re so hungry. Grabbing hamburger out of the fridge you quickly shape it in a ball before smashing it flat and tossing it into the pan. It takes you too long to get the sink on, pouring soap onto your hands and cleaning them before turning on the stove eye beneath the pan. Humming, you pull your hair back and put it into a ponytail, shaking your head to feel it swing before digging through the drawers to find a spatula.

You aren’t ready for the broad chest that you back into when you finally find the spatula buried beneath everything else. Letting out a squeak of surprise you turn your head, meeting a pair of puzzled grey eyes set beneath a brow furrowed with confusion.

“What’s that all about?”

“How’d you-” the words trail off when his thumb brushes over your bottom lip.

“Needed to get out, goin’ a bit stir crazy.”

“That’s not what I was talking about.”

It’s hard to concentrate on talking when he’s standing so close, his thumb still brushing over your lower lip like he’s forgotten he was doing it. There’s something in the back of your mind that’s trying to get your attention, something important.

“Food’s burnin’.”

“Hmm?”

Your eyes widen, squeezing past him to flip the burger. The bottom is black, and you feel your stomach turn, lips twisting with annoyance. You could still eat it, maybe scrape off some of the burnt stuff and just smother it in cheese. Cheese was the cure all for cooking mistakes.

“Sorry ‘bout that, pet.”

“It’s fine, just.. grab the cheese, yeah? Won’t even notice all that if there’s a few good slices of cheddar on it, maybe a bit of swiss? No, swiss and cheddar make a horrible combi-“ The hand that slides into your view to turn off the stove makes you pause, looking over your shoulder to see him grinning at you.

“Brought back somethin’ to nibble on, don’t suppose that helps?”

Before you even get a chance to respond he’s grabbed your wrist and is dragging you out of the kitchen to the living room. The smell of chinese hits your nose and you can’t help the small moan that escapes you. There’s fried rice and lo mein in that bag, you can practically taste it already. You’re not really aware of him falling to the couch and pulling you onto his lap, your hands are already tearing over the paper back and pulling out cartons.

“Hungry, pet?”

You smile self conciously, a hank of noodles pinched between your fingers, your head tilted back to lower them into your mouth. Slowly sucking your fingertips clean you start looking for a fork in the bag, frowning when all you can find is several packages of chopsticks.

“Ah, I didn’ think that far ahead.” When you make a move to get off his lap, a broad hand settles on your hip, the fingers digging to hold you in place. “Go on, little savagery ain’t gonna hurt my feelin’s.”

But you can’t now that he’s watching you, a hint of dimple showing near the curled ends of his mustache, his thumb skimming over your skin above the waistband of your pants. Poking around in the carton you find a piece of beef, picking it up and eyeing it before popping it into your mouth. Your hand gets pushed aside by his, grabbing a large fingerful and lowering it into his mouth.

“Let me just get a couple of forks, Charlie.” your voice comes out a bit choked, sauce making his lower lip glisten and all you can think of is catching it between your teeth.

“Nah, this works just as well, don’t it?”

The fingerful you’re holding hovers over the carton as you watch him take another bite, his eyes locking with yours as he chews slowly. There’s a question flitting around in his eyes and you lower your eyes to the carton in your lap. Grease slick fingers catch your chin, turning you to face him though you stare at his chin instead of meeting his eyes.

“Your stomach is still rumblin’, pet, I’m sure the neighbors can hear it. Why aren’t you eating, eh?”

“I am!”

“You’re not, you’re fidgety and it’s gonna start a bit of a problem if you don’t stop.”

You go still, fighting against the unconscious squirming you’d been doing trying to ignore the slick skin that’s peeking out from beneath his mustache. Lifting your clean hand, you run your thumb catching the bit of juice that’s rolling down his chin, sucking it from the pad. His eyebrows lift in surprise, eyeing you speculatively before his lips curl into what you can only call a smug smile.

“You ain’t thinkin’ ‘bout food right now, are you pet?” His hand slides beneath your shirt, fingers tracing over your ribs, goosebumps raising on your skin. 

Shaking your head you can’t drag your eyes away from his mouth, his tongue sliding over his lower lip. Feeling light headed, you jump when his hand trails up your thigh, his eyes locked on your face. Normally you can handle the almost too serious expression, the way it seems like he’s trying to pick apart your every reaction to understand it. But at the moment you’re wishing he’d never noticed, that he’d stayed in his own little world and didn’t suddenly become interested in reality.

“What’s got you flustered, eh? It’s somethin’ but I can’t quite put my finger on, but it’s somethin’.”

“Nothing, really it’s nothing.”

When he leans forward your breath catches in your throat, only to feel ridiculous when he snatches the carton out of your lap to put it on the table. Your fingers trail over the back of his neck, dipping beneath his shirt to skim over his shoulders. Side eyeing you he nuzzles your throat instead of sitting up, his mustache tickling your skin. He pulls back to stare at you, his eyes boring into yours and you try for a nonchalant shrug.

“We can always eat later.” he murmurs, his hand settling on your lower back as he tilts his head back for a kiss.


End file.
